The Devil You Know: Devington Devils Hockey Romance

by Daphne Slade

  By now, Cole has caught up to us and grabs Matt before he can come at me again. Evan is the one by my side, looking like he’d be happy to double up rather than hold me back.

  “Parks! Donahue! Both of you off the ice and with me. Now!” Coach shouts, finally catching up to us.

  I skate off the ice ahead of them both.

  Coach leads us further down one of the tunnels. Matt and I lean against the wall, a safe distance between us, as we await our reaming.

  Coach Egler stares at us, first Matt, then me, a hard look on his face. “Either of you want to clue me in?”

  “It’s nothing. Completely resolved.” I turn to give Matt a hard stare, daring him to challenge me.

  He waits a moment, just to fuck with me, then exhales and nods. “It’s nothing.”

  “I heard the name Grace. This about a girl?” Coach’s gaze tapers, whittling us both down to size.

  Neither of us bother to respond to that one. I should have known better than to bring her name up when I went at Matt. But I need him to drop this bullshit.

  And really, it’s my own damn fault.

  I should have just gone after her quietly, never even said anything in response to Matt’s original taunting. But something about that night in the bar just pissed me off. It was more than how casually he cast her aside, but I can’t put my finger on it.

  Still, I should have thought more about the team dynamics. Matt is a good player, he wouldn’t be on the team if he wasn’t, but he has a habit of pushing buttons, riling people up almost to the boiling point then pulling back just enough to laugh and chuck it up to nothing more than a prank.

  I have a more level head than that, and usually, I avoid rising to the bait. Especially over something like this.

  It’s one thing to take up a dare with regard to some stupid pet trick, or minor challenge, or even hockey. Girlfriends, ex or otherwise, are the very definition of a third rail.

  What’s even more worrisome is that little penalty on the ice only shows that maybe Matt does still harbor feelings for Grace, as opposed to just keeping her hanging on a string as some backup plan.

  But why is he just now getting all worked up? What triggered him? Once again, I wonder if maybe he knows about Grace and me, what little there is of “us” so far.

  Coach Egler stares both of us down, to no avail. “Fine then, I’m taking your word that this is done.”

  He stares at Matt. “I see another punk move like that against your own teammates, I’m benching you.”

  Then, he turns to me. “And as team captain, I expect a cooler head. Whatever led up to this damn well better be over and done with. I’m putting this on you.”

  “Understood.”

  “Good, now get back out there.”

  Matt walks back to the ice, not bothering to look my way.

  I roll my tongue around in my cheek, tempering what remains of my anger.

  Coach is right though. There’s a reason I’m captain. I’m not only one of the best players, I work well with others and maintain the peace.

  As I step back onto the ice, I think about actually letting Grace go. That lasts about as long as it takes for me to get back into position.

  Just as with hockey, when I play, I play to win. And Grace is mine.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Grace

  Next Friday, I get my first test back in Immunology: B-. Two weeks of school and already I’m flailing, at least according to the Arlington standard. I’m sure both Vanessa and Eliza are acing every quiz and paper so far this year.

  I can’t help sliding my eyes to Jenny’s and note that hers is an A.

  “Don’t worry, it’s just the first test.”

  I blink in surprise and give her an apologetic look. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snoop.”

  She laughs. “And I didn’t mean to show off.”

  “You aren’t. I guess some people are just naturals.”

  “A B- is not terrible. Besides, you did kick my ass in that lit class we had sophomore year.”

  “Which I’m sure will help plenty in medical school.”

  Jenny considers me for a moment, nibbling the inside of her cheek. “Do you want to be study buddies?”

  “Me? With you?” I laugh. “Are you sure? It’s not like you need my help.”

  “Teaching is the best way to learn they say. Besides, it’s final year. I’m pretty sure I’m a shoo-in for Columbia so it’s no bother.”

  “Really? That’d be great. Thanks so much!” I say with a grateful sigh. I frown as I realize how much I really do need this. “Especially since I’ve lost my usual study partner.”

  “This break with Matt?” She says it with a sympathetic smile.

  “Yeah.”

  “Just so you know, it’s making the rounds that he’s a free agent. I know way too many puck bunnies. They might as well have their own gossip column. ”

  I feel my face go white-hot, though I’m sure it’s red as a beet. It’s only the second week of school and already I’m gossip fodder.

  “Sorry!” She winces. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “No, it’s best I know rather than have people talking about me behind my back.”

  “That’s a good attitude to have.”

  I laugh, trying to brush it off. “What choice do I have?”

  “Do you want him back?”

  I pause to consider that, which in and of itself says a lot. “I mean…yes?”

  “You don’t sound all that sure,” she says with a hesitant laugh.

  “It’s…complicated.” With a capital N and a capital D, as in Noah Donahue. Something I’m certainly not going to discuss with Jenny right now.

  “Right,” she says, taking the hint. “So, how about Monday nights?”

  “That works great. Thanks again.”

  “No problem.”

  We exchange numbers and set up a time and place to meet in the library starting next week. Already I feel my hopes rising about this year, even though it began so horribly.

  I consider Jenny as she shoves her phone back into her bag. Good lord, she’s stunning.

  Why on earth didn’t Noah try to hold onto her?

  My own apartment is one of the few places I can’t study. Something about mixing domesticity and academics makes it impossible for me to concentrate. So I’ve spent the last several hours in the library getting a leg up on my coursework.

  At least I have Mondays with Jenny.

  As I walk back across the campus in the deepening evening, it occurs to me that Matt’s apartment is no longer an option as an alternate study space.

  Predicting a Friday night of more literary fantasy and romance I quickly shower and head back to my room. I’ve dried off but I’m still in my towel and I open my dresser to pull on some underwear.

  My eyes land on the pink tissue paper I stuffed into the back of the drawer. I completely forgot about it. It holds the bra and panty set Noah bought me, which I have yet to try on.

  For…reasons.

  Today with Jenny has obviously done a number on my self-esteem. I can handle her being more attractive, but the B- in class was the dagger that really struck a nerve.

  Noah hasn’t called since last Friday. Which has made him front and center in my mind.

  When I should be thinking about Matt.

  Who also hasn’t called.

  “What the hell is wrong with you, Grace?” I sigh to myself.

  Whatever it is that’s afflicting me, suddenly this black lace and suggestive nylon seem like the perfect antidote.

  Again, for…reasons.

  I open the pink tissue and pull out the bra first. I drop the towel and begin wriggling my lady bits into the coordinating pieces. Then I shimmy myself into the panties. I take my leisurely time with the stockings as I sit on the edge of the bed feeling like Marylin Monroe. Though, I definitely fall more on the Jackie Kennedy side of that equation, and not just in terms of looks. I’ve never been the Agent Provocateur type. I�
��m far too reserved and self-conscious to ever be labeled “coquette.”

  A ridiculous giggle tickles my throat as I pop up from my seated position and stand on my toes, raising my hands above my head, mimicking the sensuous stretch of a lazy cat.

  Or sex kitten.

  My only full-length mirror is one of those cheap things hanging over my door from Target that every college student on earth is familiar with. But the reflection of myself is enough to make me feel like a million dollars.

  “Good grief, Noah, what were you thinking?” I’m not sure if it’s condemnation, embarrassment, pleasure, or awe coloring that whisper.

  For someone who teased me about looking like a donkey, he certainly went out of his way to pick something that makes me feel like a femme fatale.

  He even got the sizes right. The dainty cups of the demi bra press up against the underside of my breasts, leaving the top half spilling over just enough to create a soft, pillowy curve. The panties are a tiny, barely-there, decorative interruption of exposed skin.

  The stockings cover more than both pieces combined, yet are somehow the most scandalous part of the set. A thick, black, elastic circle grips me mid-thigh, holding up nude nylon. I twist around to view the back seam and a grin instantly comes to my face. The words stitched in black along my calves and thighs are so suggestive that only the most prudish would fail to find at least some humor in them.

  He must have spent quite a bit. I know the store isn’t cheap.

  “Oh, Noah, what were you thinking?” I repeat, this time amusement is the boldest note in my tone.

  Who would I even wear it for?

  I straighten up and stare blankly at my reflection as I ponder that. The obvious answer is Matt. Once we get back together, of course.

  Something about that doesn’t feel right.

  Is it because Noah was the one to buy this?

  Is it because Matt would probably wonder why I’d never worn anything like this before?

  Is it because I’m beginning to not give a damn what Matt thinks?

  The sudden onset of guilt I expected to trail that thought doesn’t manifest. I still want to get back together with him, of course, I do!

  I just…

  My cell phone rings to life, nearly sending my heart into my throat. I stare at my reflection with horror, as though the person on the other end of that call can see right through the phone into my bedroom.

  I exhale and roll my eyes, covering up my self-consciousness with a short laugh as I pick up my phone.

  It’s Noah.

  Is he canceling tomorrow?

  Wait a second, why do I even care? I basically blew him off last week. I know there’s only so long I can do that before he gets fed up trying to help me out. Especially when he has so many other options on campus.

  My heart pounds as I answer.

  “Noah?” It comes out as more of a squeak than anything. My eyes dart to the reflection of myself looking like I just stepped onto the stage at the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show, and I spin around to face my bed instead. As if that’s any better.

  “Grace.” I stand up straighter at the sound of that smooth spoonful of molasses dripping into my ear. “Just calling to confirm tomorrow night.”

  “Right,” I say, slightly breathless.

  I hear silence on the other end. “Unless you and Matt have worked things out?”

  There’s something in his voice that has me flinching. Is it…anger?

  “No, I—um, I haven’t heard from him,” I stutter.

  “Good.” My head snaps back in surprise. Why is that a good thing? “So let me take you out and prove to him what he’s missing.”

  A wild burst of pleasure erupts inside of me at the suggestion. I’m ashamed to admit that it’s not just the result of proving something to Matt. Maybe it’s the idea of being “taken out,” of being “wooed,” even if it is only pretend.

  Even if it is Noah Donahue of all people.

  Talk about something to break the monotony. Maybe Matt had a point about exploring our options, not that Noah would have been the first of those options on my list.

  “You still there?” I hear a note of unease in Noah’s voice.

  “How about tonight instead?”

  Once again there is a silence on the other end, this time longer. “Tonight,” he repeats as though he hadn’t heard me correctly.

  I should take it back. What’s the big deal about waiting a day? This just makes me seem desperate. Desperate to take Matt back or desperate to be with Noah? Either way, the safest bet would be to just—

  “Yes,” I say, interrupting my own thoughts.

  This time he doesn’t hesitate. “Should I come over to pick you up now?”

  I smile into the phone as I get a glimpse of my reflection. “Give me twenty minutes to get dressed.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Noah

  I hang up and stare at the phone, wondering what brought about Grace’s sudden enthusiasm for going on a date. Since my original plans for the night included hitting the gym, I’m more than happy for this plan B.

  I waited until tonight to call again because I didn’t want to give Grace too many chances to change her mind before tomorrow night. I was also semi-cognizant that my absence might make her miss me.

  Who knew it would work this well?

  I grin as I change into something halfway decent— black t-shirt, clean jeans, and black shoes—then head out in my car.

  I decided on a place far enough from campus to avoid anyone we know seeing us, specifically from the team. I’m still very aware of what happened at practice last week. Now that Matt assumes I’m done with Grace, harmony seems to have returned, if only to the team rather than the two of us. He’s still suspicious of me.

  When Grace opens the door, another girl pops up behind her grinning from ear to ear.

  “Hello, Prince Charming,” the other girl coos.

  “Erin!” Grace protests.

  I grin. “At your service.”

  “I’m not the one who needs servicing,” Erin says.

  “And…we’re gone,” Grace says, grabbing her small black purse and walking out, bringing the door firmly closed behind her. It snaps shut to the sound of laughter on the other side.

  “Sorry about that,” she says with a grimace.

  “Not a problem,” I say with a laugh, admiring the way she looks in her dress. The little black one from last week is my favorite, but this simple white shirtdress, held together with a patterned scarf around the waist, paired with black boots is a nice contrast. I wonder if she’s wearing my gift underneath. “Italian good for you?”

  “Sounds heavenly.”

  I open the car door for her and she briefly gives me an odd look before taking a seat inside. I round the car to the driver’s side and get in, then start the engine.

  “So can I ask why today instead of tomorrow?” I grip the wheel, waiting for her to say something about getting Matt back.

  “It was…not a good day,” she says, twisting one strand of long, dark hair around her finger as she stares forward.

  “Is that so?” I say in a prodding tone, my grip relaxing a little bit.

  Her jaw works into some semblance of an ironic smile before she turns to face me. “I have a class with Jenny Tanner. Remember her?”

  I suck in one side of my cheek to keep from laughing. So she’s jealous. I can work with that. “She sounds familiar.”

  “I’m not jealous,” she adds quickly.

  “Apparently.”

  “I’m not! Even though…she did have a lot to say about how wonderfully skillful you are with your mouth and hands and, well, just about everything else. Really, she just couldn’t say enough glowing things about you.” Her voice oozes sarcasm. Maybe it’s my own wishful thinking but I swear I hear jealousy somewhere in there as well.

  “I for one am highly offended. Who knew she was the type to kiss and tell?” I say in mock offense, even though I’m silently saying a
prayer of thanks to her. Let God do with that what he will.

  Grace breathes out a laugh as we drive, shaking her head. “It must be nice to be so in demand. I always wondered why you never had a girlfriend. You could have had your pick.” She sighs and stares out at the passing street.

  My eyes are glued ahead as I consider answering that. “I was interested in a girl once, but she chose someone else. All those other girls I dated, they were simply my way of making the best of sour grapes. But sour grapes make pretty shitty wine, especially when the perfect vintage is constantly an arm’s reach away.”

  Grace swivels her head to look at me, but my eyes remain firmly staring ahead. After a moment, she slowly turns to face forward.

  The rest of the short car ride is in silence. I’m not sure how Grace feels, but for me, it’s not at all awkward. In fact, I feel relief more than anything. For three years, I’ve sat by silently—stupidly—torturing myself over a girl who wanted nothing to do with me. Now that I have a chance to shoot my shot, I’m sure as hell not going to waste it by keeping those feelings to myself.

  When we get to Salvatore’s Ristorante I park. This time Grace is out of the passenger side before I can open her door for her. I exit and walk around to meet her. She leans back against the door, concentrating her eyes on the ground.

  I stand a few feet away. “Are we doing this or not?”

  Open to whatever interpretation she’d like.

  She rolls a pair of indecipherable eyes up to me. “Were you talking about me?”

  “Yes,” I say without hesitation. Shoot your shot.

  Grace just stares, her gaze still infuriatingly unreadable. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  Not the response I was expecting.

  “Just because I dated other girls doesn’t mean I didn’t constantly think of you. Sorry for not being a monk, but you were taken. Happily so, it seemed. Of course I was going to start dating other girls.”

  She closes her eyes shakes her head with irritation as though I’m going off-topic. “It’s not about that, it’s—” She opens her eyes to peer at me again. “You don’t even find me attractive.”